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Archive for the ‘Extraneous Matter’ Category

It takes all sorts of cats to make a world. Take my mate Marmers – oh go on, purrleeeease.

No, I mean metaphorically speaking, take my mate Marmers, he’s a laid back kinda guy, likes his R&R (pretty much to the exclusion of all else), does a bit of eatin’ a bit of sleepin’ and a lot more diggin’ than is stric’ly necessary, but you won’t see him strollin’ along the High Street acting Mr Kool, like some cats I am too modest to name.

This is more his bag. Or basket. Fpu was not thrilled to see His Lardship snuggling into the clean laundry…and after all that folding too…

Other more energetic, puss-about-town types purrefer to stroll along the West Shore, taking in the evening sun and generally socialising, posing, perambulating, that sort of thing…

See? I’ve tried explaining to him, I’ve tried showing him How It’s Done, but to no avole; he’s just that sort of cat, the kind that won’t budge, won’t try something a bit adventurous, a stick-in-the-mud.

I’ve got a thing about grey cats…

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It’s been an interesting ‘summer’ in the Museum Courtyard, what with the ongoing weeding, the depredations of the May gale, the miserable damp weather and the Installation by Keiko, which is the best thing to happen so far, because Keiko  likes plants and has shown true respect for all the tiny things growing between the cobbles.

Which is more than can be said for a few brats…

She has even put protective bits of ballast and old roof tile around some that might otherwise have been trampled by careless feet coming to look at her work.

The feet purrobably weren’t doing the looking, it was much more likely the persons attached to same… Clarifications&Corrections R Us.

This sunny box under the wooden walkway suffered least from the wind and the lobelia and nasturtiums went a bit mad. But in a nice way.

These plastic ‘window’ boxes, probably kindly donated, are too small to hold their water and were very badly hit by the storm, just after planting. A bit stunted, but hanging in there. Watered regularly by Coull Deas MBE, fisherman retd age 86. Some kid!

Fishermen’s Association Pittenweem fishbox with rampant nasturtiums. The lobelia, alyssum and pansies got a bit swamped, but the bumblebees, hoverflies and butterflies love nasturtiums and Empress of India trails everywhere in an artistic sort of way.

The fenders, nets, kist, basket, ballast and rope look in keeping, but possibly not the watering can and wheelbarrow!

Just to round things off, here’s a gratuitous photo of Reaper’s sail, hoisted at a recent event in Newburgh, taken from the companionway.

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I’m really not sure why this picture is so big. As you can see, it is quite a large cucumber anyway. So far fpu has had it in salads, stirfry and soon, curry. Then purrobably salad again…

There’s only so much cucumber one person can eat, without repeating herself *smirk* However, Marmers and I are nothing if not gentlemen, so we desist from comment.

When her-two-doors-up presented it, she commented thet fpu wouldn’t be able to get her hand round it – laughter ensued. Marmers and I are still awaiting enlightenment.

We are not amused…

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We had a very nice one and hope you did too. This is our Christmas Branch, which me’n’Marmers did find a tad disappointing, as it takes a lot less undecorating than a whole tree: all our feline friends will know what I mean, purrticularly that rowdy lot, 4catgang, who not only do the undecorating, but also the total tree destruction scenario. Respec’ to 4catgang!

There must be something peculiarly bolshie about French cats, but that’s no surprise when you think about it.

Here’re me’n’Marmers enjoying our Chrissie dinner – Marmers had the honour of getting first dibs on Boris&Spock’s holographic placemat: I’m told that Mia also has one, so naturally, I’m all-of-a-flutter just thinking about us almost sharing the same purrlace at dinner!

Though I hope Marmers doesn’t get any ideas…

Fpu had a local peasant which did her two nights…

 

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This was all so before my time, in kitty terms it is purractically Purrehistoric…

Long ago and far away, in a land where the trees never shed their leaves, where the snow never falls and the rain is so warm it’s like taking a shower with your clothes on, there lived and became a small Family.

But, before the family bit became and be-was, there were Cats (and after too, obviously).

Firstly and only for a very short while – due to a pack of yellow-eyed slavering feral dogs which ran in the night-time – there was Half’a’Guinness, a small feisty black kitten. This is him…

He loved his heggs did little Guinness.

Then there was Cobweb. Being a Siamese (though not quite as Pure as she ought to be) she had Purretensions and Temperament. Her bipeds were returning to Blighty and couldn’t take her with them, mostly due to the Temperament, but also the cost of air-freighting and quarantineing, so she became companion to little Arfa and looked down her nose at him, mostly…

This is her…

After the Dogs That Killed in the Night Time, it became known on the grapevine (or pussibly any old vine – stick a twig in the ground and it would grow like Jack’s Beanstalk) that Cobweb’s nevvy was looking for a Good Home, so along came a tiny black kitten which was named Squirrel…

And this is him…

Rather in the way of Marmers, Cobweb became the ‘stremely irritatin’ one and Squirrel, like me, the Most Dearly Beloved.

When it became time for the Family, which had now become Four instead of Two, to return also to Blighty, Cobweb fell on all her four paws and found a home with an ancient Australian lady called Dorothy, who spoke to her as if she were at least a Duchess, and fussed over her such that the pu’s had to stifle their grins behind their hands, for Lady Cobweb had never been spoken to in such gushing tones before: Dorothy fed her on roast chicken and vitamin pills and she throve into old age.

Alas for Squirrel, the Siamese part of his Temperament made him flee from his would-be adopters and he disappeared into the Jungle, never to be seen again…

Thus ends the tale of the First Cats.

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Well…I have just come across some things so bizarre I can hardly describe them. They were in a thing called a ‘Photo Album’, which is an oblong hard-back book with see-through turny-flappy things attached to its insides instead of purroper pages. These are flipped over to reveal solid images on photographic paper – hunner and hunners of them.

Nothin’ like iPhoto at all. So primitive and yet somehow alluring.

I gazed upon images of Cats Past – a tiny Basil; a very large and impressive Pookie and a rather glowering wha’-daur-meddle-wi’-me Felix, none of whom I met in their own mealtime. I don’t want to seem immodest, but I am definately one of the handsomest – by a long stripe!

Myself As A Kitten…

…and Marmers as Kitty-Cushion, a rôle which he is less keen to take on, these days:-)

It was a matter of moments to scan them into iMac…or it would have been if one of us could actually remember How To Scan. So it took a little longer than anticipated. As I (and other cats besides) have said before, you just can’t get the staff.

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This is a gentle blog: there will be no terrifying things, no horrifying things and no wee corpses. that’s not to say there haven’t been any, just that this is an Autumn Ramble, meant to sooth, calm and relax the viewer.

No snoozing at the back there!

So, anyway, I set off on a ramble around my locale (as the estate agents will have it) having left my deceptively spacious home (ditto) in a much sought-after-seldom-to-market pocket (likewise) last weekend, leaving bb1 In Charge.

I decided to Poison The Pigeons in The Park first. It was a tad disappointin’ to find they were mostly ducks and black-headed gulls without their black heads with not a pigeon in sight, but fpu explained that pigeons don’t swim…so that was alright.

those ducks had backbone (well obviously, they’re vertebrates:-) because I wouldn’t like to have tangled with all those skrekkin’ things with ‘stremely sharp beaks!

aren’t they tasty cutesy!

sensible duckies head towards the Source of Bread, leaving the melee behind

After feeding the plump duckies and skrekkin’ things, I set off along the Prom-tiddly-om-pom

some of the many marina boats hauled up for the winter

Broughty Ferry

rustle-rustle-rustle-swish

four trees

it’s got eight legs, it’s black, is it the Giant Pidey of Destiny? Nope…it’s the battered brolly of experience:-)

playing fields

the Giant Cupcakes of Ferryport

so…you go left on a red bicycle, right on a green one, right to pee and right to travel til foots

so who worked it out?

swansdown

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